Lost Ones
by Panthers Midnight Lair
Summary: Daniel has been rescued from the hands of his newest alien friend, but his recovery isn't quite as smooth as they had hoped.


Lost Ones

Season: 4 (tag for First Ones)

Rating: R

Pairing: Jack/Daniel

Spoilers: The First Ones

Warnings: Non-graphic slash

_Disclaimer: The Stargate universe and its inhabitants are the sole property of MGM et al. I don't own them. I just like to play with them._

**Author's Note:** This story is the furry, fuzzy offspring of a gray haired, geriatric plot bunny that was inspired by Shanks' story of swimming in the contaminated pond during filming of The First Ones. It's been on the Bunny Farm long enough to have been made Ruler and given a bejeweled nest and its own harem. Long live Lord Michael's plot bunny!..._sorry, according to the Great and Wise Bunny I have to say that every so often._

Daniel has been rescued from the hands of his newest alien friend, but his recovery isn't quite as smooth as they had hoped.

**XxXxXxXx**

Jack typed the final sentence of his mission report with a sigh of relief. It hadn't been a total catastrophe. After all, they had met their objective of finding and rescuing one kidnapped archaeologist. Still, taking the life of a fellow soldier and a civilian was something he was incredibly eager to put behind him. He hadn't had any choice, but he still hated it. The fact that the civilian in question had been an annoying pain in the ass didn't make it sit any better. The fact that the civilian in question had been one of Daniel's friends definitely didn't make it sit any better.

He sent an e-mail copy of the report to Hammond and Harriman and then pushed away from Daniel's desk. When it came to mission reports he hijacked whatever computer was handy. With Daniel in the infirmary being checked over by Frasier that had left his wide open. It had also led to a few amusing moments when people had come striding into his office, questions and comments already in full swing only to find that the person behind the desk wasn't Daniel; was in fact someone of a much higher rank than Daniel. What could he say…he was a big fan of any amusement he could inject into the process of writing mission reports and sending people stammering and scurrying from the room without having said a word definitely qualified.

Part of the reason he had chosen Daniel's computer was that he wanted to prevent him from sitting down at his desk and starting to work on the mountain of things that had piled up during his three week vacation to play in the dirt. After what he'd been through he needed some down time and what better way to ensure he got it than to hijack his computer and steer him right back out of his office the moment he appeared. Except he hadn't.

Jack scowled at his watch and headed for the infirmary. It had been two hours since they had turned Daniel over to Frasier. Jack had expected him to show up long before then. The fact that he hadn't was mildly concerning. By his own admission Daniel was tired, dehydrated, hungry, and had a few minor bumps and bruises, but no major injuries, or at least none he had admitted to. It was that concept that had him concerned. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time Daniel lied about how badly he was hurt.

"Where's Dr. Jackson?" He asked as he came striding into the infirmary, directing his question to the first staff member he saw.

"Um, I don't know, Sir." The woman replied.

"Anybody?" He asked raising his voice a notch. "Anybody seen Daniel?"

"I sent him home, Colonel." Frasier replied. "He left about an hour ago."

"I was waiting in his office. He didn't show up."

"I told him to stay away from his desk and go right home." She admitted. "Nice to see he actually followed my directions for once."

"Yeah, well, he's a little off." Jack shrugged. "How is he?"

"He's fine. Tired and a little dehydrated, but otherwise fine."

"Does he know about Rothman?"

"I don't know." She said. "It didn't come up."

Jack nodded and wandered back out of the infirmary toward the elevators. It was 18:00, time to call it a day anyway, and after the last 24 hours spent frantically searching an Unas and symbiote infested planet in order to pull Daniel's butt out of the fire yet again, he was ready for a nice, quiet evening at home.

"Daniel?" He called, pushing through the front door.

There was no answer. He ducked into the garage and found Daniel's car sitting in its normal spot. Obviously he was around somewhere. Jack took another detour and peered into the kitchen looking for signs that he had followed the "eat something" bullet point of Frasier's orders. It looked exactly the way it had when Jack had left for work the day before…meaning he probably hadn't.

"Daniel?" He repeated with a sigh as he wandered back into the hall and headed toward the bedroom.

It was no real surprise to find him stretched out on the bed, arms tucked to his chest and sporting a white gauze wristband on each. Ok, the bandages were a bit of a surprise, but it made sense when Jack realized he'd been hauled around the planet for 24 hours by his hands. He settled on the edge of the bed stroking Daniel's stubble covered face before pressing a kiss to his temple.

"Jack." Daniel mumbled quietly, his eyes still closed.

"Yeah."

"What time is it?"

"Somewhere around 18:30. You ok?"

Daniel nodded.

"You hungry?"

"Just tired."

"Frasier was a little surprised you actually went home." He commented.

"Mmm."

"I think she was disappointed not to have to chain you to a gurney overnight."

"Mmm."

At that point Jack gave up the attempt at conversation. If the fact that he hadn't managed to even open his eyes wasn't enough of a hint that he was exhausted, the fact that he had collapsed on the bed in his fatigues and boots certainly was. He was still wearing the clothes he'd been in when his new Unas friend had dragged him across the planet; sandy, sweaty, and covered in who knew what.

Jack unlaced Daniel's boots and pried them off his feet before peeling off his socks. The rest could wait until later. Maybe given a few more hours of sleep he'd be awake enough to clean himself up. Of course, it had been close to 48 hours since his last dose of caffeine. De-caffeinated Daniel could sleep like the dead. It was probably just as well. He needed it.

**XxXxXxXx**

The incredibly annoying sound of the alarm woke Jack the next morning and he batted blindly at the contraption until it stopped. Prying himself reluctantly from the bed he wandered toward the bathroom without bothering to go through the morning ritual of wrestling Daniel out from under the blankets. He wasn't aware of it yet, but he was getting the day off to rest and recuperate. When he finally regained consciousness enough to realize it was morning he would no doubt argue that he was "fine" and needed to get started on the mountain of projects waiting in his office. For all intents and purposes he was fine, but a day to rest when he hadn't been expected back in his office for another week and a half wasn't exactly punishment. Of course, that probably depended on who you asked. Daniel wasn't the sit at home watching TV in his jammies kind of person.

Jack considered that it was entirely possible Daniel would want to go right back to the planet and continue digging now that he was patched up and had gotten some sleep. Not to mention wanting to go back and further investigate his new friend and its culture…assuming it even had such a thing. He was fairly certain he knew what Hammond was going to say to that. They were willing to have a team tied up guarding the dig site when it seemed there was nothing to really guard against. However, that was before they had realized that the place was swarming with Unas and completely infested with goa'uld, the combination having led to the death of five men. Like it or not, the mission had been scrubbed the minute Teal'c had pointed out the pond of symbiotes…if not sooner. Daniel might be interested enough in goa'uld evolution and the customs of Unas to take the risk, but Hammond wouldn't be and Jack didn't blame him.

He sighed heavily as he turned on the water in the shower. He supposed there was no real harm in Daniel dragging himself into the office to work, but before he did Jack was going to have to tell him about Rothman and it was pretty much the last thing he wanted to do. The conversation had to happen eventually and since he had been the one holding the weapon he wanted to be the one to break the news to Daniel before he heard it from anyone else. That gave him somewhere around an hour to figure out a way to say it without just blurting it out.

By the time he climbed out of the shower the smell of coffee had made its way from the kitchen to their bedroom. Like it or not Daniel was awake. After 18 hours of sleep it was far from shocking, but Jack grimaced at the thought, nonetheless. Being his first cup of designer coffee in nearly a month he had no doubt Daniel would take his time savoring it, probably while he was scanning news channels on cable to catch the highlights of what he had missed while he'd been gone. In other words, he had a minute or two to get dressed before broaching the subject of whether or not Daniel was actually going to the base that day.

Padding out to the kitchen in his bare feet, Jack found the scene pretty much the way he'd imagined it. Daniel in his t-shirt and sweats, sipping at his cup of coffee while scowling at CNN on the small 12 inch television they had in the kitchen.

"You didn't miss much." Jack commented as he headed for the coffee pot.

"Yeah, I kinda got that." Daniel nodded. "I see they held elections in Russia."

"Don't get me started."

"Right." Daniel nodded with a smirk. "I'm going to hop in the shower."

"Yeah, about that."

"What?"

"Why don't you take the day off?"

"Why?"

"No reason you could just use some down time after your…little adventure."

"I'm fine."

"Nobody was expecting you back for more than a week so you could take some time, you know."

"Why?" Daniel repeated, suspicion blooming in his expression.

"It's not an order, just a suggestion."

"I appreciate it, but there's a ton of stuff I need to do and I'm hoping to talk to Hammond about maybe getting another week or so at that dig site."

"I wouldn't count on that."

"Couldn't hurt to ask." He shrugged.

"Trust me. I'd cross that off your list if I were you."

"Why?"

"Why don't you sit down?"

"Why?"

"Just…sit down."

Daniel settled into a chair at the counter eyeing him suspiciously and Jack resisted the urge to scrub at his hair as he tried to figure out where to start a conversation he really didn't want to have.

"We found out during the rescue mission that P3X888 is sporting at least one pond full of goa'uld…possibly more." He began, reaching over and turning off the television.

"Yeah, I know." He shrugged.

"You know?"

"I found that out the hard way after going for a swim. I had no idea those things could fly. I mean, obviously they can't really, but one of them launched itself a good 10 feet out of the water trying to get to me. You should have seen it. Probably would have gone 20 by the time it hit the ground."

"Wait, you went swimming in a pond full of goa'uld?"

"Well, I didn't know it had goa'uld in it at the time." He shrugged. "Chaka didn't like the water. I thought it was a way to escape…at least until I figured out _why_ he didn't like the water."

"What?"

"What?"

"What's 'Chaka'?"

"The Unas."

"You named…never mind." Jack shook his head in annoyance. "Does Frasier know about this?"

"They did a routine scan when I came back. I'm clean."

"Well some of the rescue team wasn't so lucky." Jack said.

"What?" Daniel asked, the smirk sliding from his face.

"We didn't find out about the goa'uld until after a couple of people had already been taken as hosts."

"Who?"

"The leader of SG-9, for one."

"Hawkins? I saw him just before Chaka grabbed me. He was fine."

"Apparently not. No way to tell when it happened, but he was definitely not himself when we showed up."

"You're sure?"

Jack gave him a look.

"Right. Sorry. How is he?"

"I'm getting to that." Jack replied, folding his arms across his chest and resting a hip against the counter.

No matter how he looked at it there was just no easy way to say what he had to say.

"The point is," he continued, postponing the inevitable "now that we know the place is crawling with a combination of Unas and live goa'uld there is no way Hammond is going to keep the mission going. It was probably scrubbed the minute we heard you'd been kidnapped."

"Isn't that overreacting just a little? So we stay away from the water?"

"And the Unas?"

"As long as Chaka is in charge of the clan we shouldn't have any more problems with them."

"Didn't exactly look like his reign was on very solid footing."

"Maybe not, but I'm sure we'll be safe for at least a few more days."

"He's going to say 'no'."

"Do you mind if I hear that for myself?" Daniel replied in annoyance.

"There's no point in asking."

"Why not?"

"Because…the other half of the story is that people died on that mission, Daniel."

"What?" He gaped, his obvious annoyance evaporating. "Who?"

"Hawkins."

"How?"

"The goa'uld." Jack shrugged.

"And?"

"You need more of a reason than that?"

"No, I mean who else? You said 'people'."

Jack let out a heavy sigh. "The rest of SG-9 when they went after the Unas…and Rothman."

"What?"

The look on Daniel's face made his stomach clench. Eyes wide, face already wrinkled into a disturbed scowl, he looked as if he'd been punched in the stomach.

"He was a host, Daniel."

"No."

"No?"

"No, he was fine. I've been working with him for three weeks. I spent every day with him. He wasn't a host. He…he never even went near the water. He liked ordering SG-9 around so he always made them go."

"Well, at some point he got too close to a goa'uld somewhere."

"No."

"Daniel, trust me. I didn't see it either, not until it was too late."

Daniel stared back at him in silence. "How?" He asked quietly.

"He pulled a weapon, started shooting." Jack shrugged. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I had no choice."

"You."

Jack nodded again. "I'm sorry it happened, but if I had it to do over I'd do the same thing. He would have killed people."

Daniel grimaced at the statement even as he nodded at the counter, his half full mug of coffee forgotten.

"Look, why don't you take some time…"

"No. I, uh…I've got a lot of work to do…and I, um…I need to pack up Robert's things." He replied quietly.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah." He nodded to the counter before getting up and wandering down the hall toward the bedroom.

Jack grimaced to himself as he watched him go, hating the entire situation. Rothman was another tragic loss in a long line of tragic losses. He had no doubt Daniel would find a way to deal with it. Jack was just annoyed that he had to.

**XxXxXxXx**

It had been a few days since the rescue mission that had brought Daniel home in one exhausted, grimy, and mildly unnerved piece. Since then he had been doing his best to play the role of a quintessential workaholic. While it was true he had more than enough to keep him busy, even without adding his own project of documenting and reporting what he'd found on P3X888, it wasn't the stress of deadlines that kept him working long hours. He was hiding; hiding from the pain of Rothman's death; hiding from the fact that the man he shared a house with had been the one to kill him, however justified it may have been.

Jack knew Daniel wasn't blaming him for it. Not really, but he wasn't naïve enough to think that it hadn't added a bit of tension to their relationship. He had a feeling it was easier for Daniel to let the dust settle on the whole mess, the emotions settling with it, if his face to face encounters with Jack were limited. Even so, it was his house Daniel dragged himself to in the wee hours of the morning when his craving for sleep became too much to ignore, and he still slept pressed up against Jack's back with an arm flung over him like his own personal, life-sized teddy bear. Obviously his annoyance was cosmetic. It would heal given time.

Jack's real concern had nothing to do with the Rothman debacle. Daniel had obviously been burning the candle at both ends while on the mission. His trek through the woods with his new friend had certainly been a change of pace, but hadn't offered anything close to a chance to rest. Now back on Earth he was burying himself under piles of projects and translations in the hopes that by the time he came up for air the pain of Rothman's death would have quieted a bit. In other words, he was the poster child for exhaustion and Jack suspected it was just a matter of time before he ended up sick with something, or simply collapsed. The fact that Frasier hadn't confined him to a gurney to sleep yet only meant he'd been successful in dodging her and the whispers about how wrung out he looked hadn't reached her ears. That, too, was only a matter of time. In short, Daniel could take some friendly advice and stop working like a man possessed or he could wait until Frasier stepped in and stopped him…or his body staged an all out protest and dropped him where he stood. It was his choice, but one way or another he was going to have to stop the insanity.

Jack strode determinedly into Daniel's office late that afternoon to find him peering at his computer the way he had been for days. The red tinge to his eyes and the dark circles under them spoke to his exhaustion even without the yawn he tried to hide.

"Ok, Daniel, pack it up. Time to call it a day." Jack announced cheerfully, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

He fully expected an argument and had come prepared to ignore every complaint, every salty comment, every pleading look. He watched as Daniel stared at him in confusion before scowling at the time display on his computer.

"It's only 15:30."

"Yeah, and as far as you're concerned that's quitting time."

"I've still got work to do." Daniel informed him, turning back to the computer.

"And all of it will be here tomorrow. Come on, let's go."

"Jack."

"Daniel. I know what this is, ok?" He said, softening his attitude and his voice. "I know you're still trying to wrap your head around this whole thing, but running yourself into the ground isn't going to help. You need a break whether you want one or not so you're taking the rest of the day off."

"Just give me another hour."

"Not even another ten minutes."

"Jack."

"Sorry, Daniel, this is not negotiable." He said pleasantly, adding a slight sing-song tone to his voice.

"Jack." Daniel warned with blatant annoyance.

The inevitable argument was about to explode on the scene. Jack could tell by the tone of his voice and was preparing his next volley, one that was sure to have Daniel grinding his teeth and bolting up from his chair in protest, when he noticed the little white bottle next to his monitor.

It was no secret that Daniel got headaches and he kept a ready supply of aspirin on hand to deal with them. What most people didn't know was that Daniel also had a history of ulcers. Not exactly a big shock. They weren't bad enough to need much in the way of medical attention, just an obvious sign that he needed to cut his stress level back for a few days. Until they quieted he took to downing mouthfuls of Maalox; a last ditch attempt at settling his stomach before he was forced to resort to unthinkable things like resting and giving up coffee.

"I think that makes my argument for me." Jack said nodding toward the bottle.

"It's not what you think."

"That's not Maalox?"

"It is, but I don't have an ulcer. My stomach's just off, now will you please leave me alone before you give me one?"

"What do you mean 'off'?"

"Off…as in…not on." Daniel sighed. "It's probably just something I ate. Look, I'm right in the middle of this. Can we talk about it later?"

"No because in case you missed the start of this conversation, you're packing it in for the day and going home."

"No, I'm not."

"Do you want me to have an Airman walk you up to the surface?"

"Oh please. Like you'd actually do it." Daniel huffed, eyes back on his computer.

"Fine, if you won't go willingly then I'll have Frasier put you on medical leave."

"You're not serious."

"Oh, but I am. You pack it in on your own or I'll have the doc do it for you."

"This is ridiculous." Daniel glared at him. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Jack. I was doing it long before we met so you can stop treating me like a child." He spat getting to his feet, a hand going to his stomach. "I'll leave when I'm done."

Jack stared back at him, pointedly dragged his gaze down to Daniel's stomach and then back up to his face, eyebrows sliding up his forehead.

"It's not an ulcer." Daniel insisted.

"Of course it's not."

"I don't care whether you believe me or not."

In the space of the next few seconds the mood in the room changed dramatically. At least it did on Jack's side. The color drained from Daniel's face as he continued to glare defiantly back at Jack, a moment before he leaned over his desk and threw up in his trash bin.

"Whoa! Ok, that's it." Jack said, jumping back a step.

"It's…it's not that bad, Jack." Daniel croaked. "I'll be fine in a minute."

"It's not that…" Jack gaped. "How often has this been happening?" He demanded in light of Daniel's nonchalant attitude.

"Once in a while."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. A day…maybe two."

"You've been puking in trash cans for two days and you didn't think it was worth mentioning?"

"It's nothing…just something I ate."

"Don't even try to pull that 'I'm fine' routine with me, Daniel." Jack scowled at him. "This isn't even in the same area code as 'fine' and you know it."

Daniel collapsed back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Jack could see the resignation written all over him. After that little scene there was no way he was going to win the argument and they both knew it.

"Come on." Jack said, quietly.

"What?"

"We're going to see Frasier."

"Jack."

"Not gonna work." He shook his head. "Not after that. Let's go."

In his current mood Jack knew better than to even attempt to touch him so he merely marched along behind him, silently herding him to the infirmary.

**XxXxXxXx**

Mild annoyance had turned to official concern by the next morning when Frasier still hadn't released Daniel. Jack had been expecting her to take one look at him, hand him a bottle of sleeping pills and bar him from the base for a week. Instead she had assigned him a gurney for a night of observation. Apparently what she had observed hadn't been good because at 08:00 the next morning Daniel was still in bed and she wasn't making any preparations to send him home.

"What's the story with Daniel?" Jack asked, sticking his head in her office.

"I'm not sure yet." She admitted as she pulled on her lab coat, ready to start the day. "I was just going over the notes from last night and something is definitely up with him, but I'm not sure exactly what."

"Could it be exhaustion? He's been going full speed for over a month."

"I don't think so. This isn't usually how he looks when he's exhausted. He vomited several more times last night and so far he's not responding to anything I've given him."

"Could it be his ulcer?"

"It's possible, but I doubt it." She shook her head, her eyes on his chart. "His normal symptoms don't look like this. In fact, the last time we saw this sort of thing it turned out to be his appendix. Thankfully we can rule that out." She concluded. "Vomiting, stomach cramps, loss of appetite. He thinks it's something he ate and going by these symptoms that's not a bad guess, but two or three days of this is a bit too long."

"Wait, he told me one or two days."

"He told me the same thing," she admitted "but I know him well enough to know that he probably shaved at least a day off his estimate, if not more, trying to pretend it's not as bad as it really is."

"Good point."

"If it was food poisoning it would have worked its way out of his system by now. And the lack of diarrhea doesn't exactly support that either."

"So?"

"So we keep trying. I just wish I knew what he got into. Normally I could compare his condition to the rest of the team from the mission, but…" She sighed heavily.

"Yeah." Jack nodded agreement.

The fact that he was the only surviving member of the team that had gone to P3X888 to dig was a subject he had yet to broach with Daniel. He knew what it was to be the last man standing. He also knew the incredible amount of guilt that went along with it. So far Daniel had been avoiding any type of in depth conversation about what had happened on the planet, or his reaction to it, by working long enough hours that when he finally came home Jack was usually already in bed. That in itself was a bit disturbing because of the two of them he was the one that typically hid from his feelings, not Daniel. Maybe he just didn't want to talk about it, but surely he knew better than to think Jack would let it go without any type of discussion; especially in light of his self-destructive behavior of late.

"Could contaminated water do it?"

"It might."

"So maybe it's something to do with the lake on P3X888?"

"Lake?"

"I gather he didn't tell you about that."

"No. What lake?"

"He went for a swim in goa'uld infested water."

"I'm sure I would have remembered if he'd told me something like that." Frasier sighed. "Is there any way to know exactly which lake?"

"Not without taking him back to the planet."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I figured."

"Do you know if they were drinking the water on the planet?"

"I'm pretty sure they were, but they were using water purification tablets."

"Which may or may not have worked against alien contaminants." Frasier replied. "I'm going to need to have someone go back and retrace his steps. I'll need water samples from every body of water he might have swam in or drank from."

"I'll go talk to Hammond." Jack sighed.

**XxXxXxXx**

To put it mildly, Daniel was miserable. He was still mourning Rothman's loss, no doubt blaming himself for it somehow. He was mourning the loss of a team of men he had developed friendships with during his three week dig; and more than likely disturbed by the fact that of the whole group he was the only one that had survived. He was also incredibly sick: stomach cramps, fever, chills, nausea, the whole deal.

Jack was settled in a chair next to Daniel's gurney sincerely wishing he could offer some type of comfort even if it was only holding his hand. However, they were on base and the "hands off" rule was in play. The best he could do was sit and talk to him, at least during the periods where Daniel was feeling up to it.

They had gone back to 888 and picked up a sizeable collection of water samples from every lake, pond, and puddle Daniel might have run across. It had taken Frazier less than thirty minutes to discover that nearly every sample was teeming with microscopic life. "Parasites" was the term she had used. Whatever the little suckers were, they were now swimming around in Daniel's system. With the mystery solved they were down to finding a way to kill them off. Unfortunately, being alien bugs it was taking forever to find an Earthbound cure. So far things were bad, but Frasier was expecting them to get worse as the number of organisms multiplied along with the amount of toxins they released into Daniel's system. Apparently when they did finally find the magic cure she expected that level to increase when the parasites died in large numbers and dumped all that garbage into his system at once.

In short, it was going to get ugly.

As it was, Daniel had been curled up on a gurney for three days trying his best to sleep through the whole ordeal. Of course, it was hard to sleep with a stomach ache and a persistent desire to throw up. One hand curled loosely around one of the vertical bars on the gurney's railing, his eyes were closed, but the scowl on his face gave away the fact that he was awake.

"You doing ok?" Jack asked quietly, Daniel nodding minutely. "Need anything?"

Daniel shook his head slightly a moment before his grip on the railing tightened the way it always did when his stomach cramped. Keeping his ear tuned to the sound of shoes on the floor Jack rested his hand over the top of Daniel's. Military protocol be damned, there was only so much he could take and sitting there keeping his hands to himself while Daniel was in misery was several steps past his limit. As long as no one was around to witness it he was safe. Intently studying his pinched expression, listening to the way he quietly panted for air, Jack began gently stroking Daniel's hand with his thumb, offering what tiny bit of comfort he could.

"We'll get you through this, Danny. I promise." He said quietly. "Frasier's gonna get a handle on it."

Daniel nodded at him struggling to keep his breathing slow and even, the way Teal'c had taught him. There were moments when it came in handy to have a meditation master on the compound. Daniel had a very high tolerance for pain, but this was pushing his limits.

Frasier was right. If he hadn't known better he would have sworn they were getting a repeat performance of his burst appendix. The notion that it was going to get worse before it got better was not even remotely comforting. That was assuming alien parasites behaved the way Earth parasites did. In reality all bets were off. Things could get a whole lot worse than they were anticipating or they could stay the way they were until Daniel eventually felt better. For his part Jack was refusing to think about it.

Two days and ten hours later…yes, he was counting. So sue him!...the "worse" symptoms they were expecting made an appearance. Daniel's stomach cramps shifted further down his belly and cranked up the volume. Jack had been sitting by his bed telling him about Siler's latest electrical mishap when he'd seen the muscles in his jaw bunch as he'd ground his teeth together, the knuckles on his hand a stark white as he strangled the railing of his gurney. With his free arm wrapped around his stomach he had curled into a ball, his face red as he held his breath.

"Breathe, Daniel." Jack instructed.

"Can't." Daniel groaned.

"Breathe. Come on…in….out….in…out."

Daniel tried to play along, sputtering out a few breaths before deciding he'd humored Jack as much as he was going to.

"Doc!" Jack bellowed, reluctantly letting go of Daniel's hand.

The privacy curtain was pulled back a moment later as one of the nursing staff appeared.

"Get Frasier." Jack ordered.

The nurse glanced at Jack, glanced at Daniel curled up in a ball and jogged back across the infirmary returning with Frasier right behind her.

"What happened?"

"No idea. He was fine a minute ago."

"Daniel, where does it hurt?" She asked, as tears began leaking out of his tightly clenched eyes. "Can you roll onto your back for a minute so I can get a look at you?"

Daniel shook his head and stayed exactly where he was. Frasier settled for pressing the stethoscope to what she could reach of his lower abdomen, listening for a brief moment.

"What?" Jack asked when she pulled the ends out of her ears.

"Nothing. Everything sounds normal."

"Well, this is definitely not normal." He pointed at Daniel.

"Most likely it's just the parasites." She said calmly.

"And we're going to do what about it?" he demanded.

"We keep trying. The tests show that this new drug I've got him on is effective, but not 100%. Unfortunately it's the best we have at the moment. It's just going to take some time. I'll keep him as comfortable as I can, but what I can actually do for him is limited."

"So, what, we just let him suffer like this?"

"I'm sorry, Colonel, there's really not much I can do other than what I have been. Even the parasites we have on Earth can be hard to deal with. It just takes time."

Jack gaped at her, a tirade brewing in his head before he noticed the nurse leaning close to Daniel, talking softly in his ear.

"…that's it, Dr. Jackson, two short pants, one normal breath…good. Just like that. I now it's hard, but try not to tighten your muscles. Good…keep going." She instructed, a hand rest on his shoulder. "You're doing fine, Daniel. It'll be over in a minute. You've just got to ride this one out and then you can rest."

She glanced up for a moment and met Jack's very intent stare.

"Um…Lamaze." She shrugged. "I thought if it worked for labor it might work for this."

Frasier smiled and Jack returned his attention to Daniel who was still curled into a ball strangling the railing of his bed, but was at least breathing, his face no longer a growing shade of crimson. It was a start, but it wasn't nearly good enough as far as he was concerned.

The pain eventually died down to something much more tolerable and Daniel immediately dropped off to sleep. Jack sat in silence for he had no idea how long watching him. He knew it wasn't Frasier's fault they were getting nowhere, but he was dying to take his frustration and worry out on someone. For almost a week Daniel had been sick, miserable, and dropping weight fast enough to be visibly noticeable. He couldn't eat because of his stomach and the IV was only able to do so much. There had to be a way to make it stop. Frasier was working on it, but so far he hadn't seen anything that offered much in the way of hope for a cure and he flat out refused to consider what would happen if she couldn't find one.

Listening intently for the sound of approaching feet Jack stood up, placed a gentle kiss on Daniel's sweaty temple and headed for Frasier's office. It might not be her fault, but she was the person in charge of fixing this mess. He wanted to know what she had in mind other than a drug that annoyed the parasites, but didn't exactly kill them and only succeeded in making Daniel more miserable than he already was.

Less than 100% was not good enough.

**XxXxXxXx**

They were on day seven and Jack had taken to hovering around the infirmary nearly full time. The place annoyed him. The situation annoyed him more and his continued presence kept the staff on edge. He knew he was being a royal pain in Frasier's ass and she probably didn't deserve it, but he didn't care. His theory was that if she got tired enough of him she'd come up with a cure that much faster. Normally Daniel would have given him a lecture about keeping his hostility in check, but Daniel had other fish to fry and Jack wasn't in the mood to rein in his temper.

Sitting in his chair by Daniel's gurney, arms folded across his chest and a blatantly unpleasant scowl on his face he was the epitome of an unhappy Colonel. Daniel was asleep…again. In that particular situation it was good news because the only time he wasn't asleep lately was when he was in pain. Having him unconscious was definitely favorable to watching him pant his way through stomach cramps that only seemed to be getting worse over time. From Jack's point of view things seemed to be sliding further out of control and he had no idea how to stop it. That fact that he wasn't alone in his frustration wasn't even remotely comforting. He didn't want company in his annoyance he wanted results.

"Jack." Croaked a quiet voice from the bed.

"Right here." He said instantly, leaning forward in his chair.

"It's hot."

"I know. You've got a fever."

Daniel nodded as he coughed, hacking weakly before settling again. The coughing was new. It had shown up as an unpleasant surprise the day before when he'd started hacking up blood. To Frasier it served as proof that the little mongrels in his system had expanded their turf to include his lungs. To Jack it was proof that they were miles from having the situation under control.

"We've got ice chips or a cold pack." Jack offered. "Though the cold pack gave you a headache last time."

"Ice please." He croaked.

"Coming right up."

Jack bounced up from his chair and went in search of ice, returning moments later with a cup full of it and spoon. Loading the spoon with several chips he fed Daniel like a helpless baby bird, watching as he rolled the bits around on his tongue, blinking slowly as if not entirely sure he intended to stay awake.

"Robert's gone." Daniel said quietly out of nowhere.

"Yeah." Jack nodded.

"I never should have brought him here." Daniel sighed heavily, inspiring a brief coughing fit.

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yes…yes it was." He nodded. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"The goa'uld killed him, Daniel. Not you." Jack stated determinedly.

"And who introduced him to the goa'uld?" Daniel blinked back at him.

"Listen to me." Jack said, doing his best to hold his gaze. "This was not your fault. You didn't do this. None of it. It was just a stupid…accident."

"He was a host." Daniel argued quietly. "Just like Shau'ri. Just like Skaara. It wasn't an accident. I should have known better. I brought him here, told him it was going to be better than any job he'd ever had and…big surprise…look what happened?"

Jack ground his teeth. This was the wrong time to be getting into it. Daniel was sick and exhausted and not exactly in his right mind. Too tired to sugar coat things or even attempt to hide his feelings, he was being blatantly honest about the whole thing, just a bit too loopy to consider that maybe he was wrong. He'd apparently looked over the situation and come to the conclusion that there was only one person to blame. The goa'uld were just being goa'uld. They did what they always do, but as a lowly human he should have known better.

"Why did I do it?" Daniel muttered quietly. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"Here." Jack said, shoveling another spoonful of ice into his mouth in an effort to keep him from saying anything else.

He could only take so many gut wrenching confessions. He wanted to grab him, look into those feverish blue eyes, and tell him he loved him beyond words and it didn't matter what he thought he had done. It wasn't his fault. Then cuddle him in his arms until he went back to sleep. But they were in the very public infirmary and even in private he had a hard time actually saying things like that. Once in a while, late at night, when it was just the two of them, his heart beginning to slow from a full gallop, and barely sated desire still pulsing pleasantly through his body he could manage to get the words out. Not here. Not now. All he could do was fall back to the only form of communication he knew when words failed him, which they often did where Daniel was concerned.

"Go back to sleep." He said gently. "We can talk about it later."

Daniel nodded, eyes drifting closed and Jack took his hand, placing a quick kiss on his knuckles.

**XxXxXxXx**

Jack pushed open the front door and let Daniel shuffle in. Dressed in clothes that had once fit him perfectly and now were a bit too big, he wandered into the house and headed for the den before pouring himself onto the couch. It was more exercise than he'd had in two weeks and Jack could tell just by looking at him that he was wrung out. The bed would have been more comfortable, but wherever he wanted to land was fine with Jack. He was just thrilled to have him home.

It had been a scary two weeks, but Frasier had come through. When drug after drug had failed she had resorted to alternative medicine and realized that perhaps the best way to get rid of the parasites was to turn Daniel's body into a less than ideal place to hang out. Unfortunately the stuff she wanted to use to do the job had to be swallowed. Pouring it into his veins through the IV was not an option. It was some type of digestive system cleans. The kind of stuff Jack typically associated with incense, chanting, and palm readers. However, he was beyond desperate so he'd had no complaints. The problem they had run into was that Daniel couldn't keep anything other than ice chips down. The way the stuff smelled he probably would have thrown it back up even if his stomach hadn't been on strike. So they had gone through the process of putting a tube down Daniel's throat and into his upper intestines, bypassing his stomach altogether. The procedure had been brief but pointedly unpleasant for Daniel.

According to Frasier that wasn't the way the stuff was designed to work. It was supposed to be absorbed through the stomach first and then work its way through, but since they didn't have that option she had been willing to improvise. Thankfully it had worked. It had taken a few days and initially had made Daniel feel a whole lot worse, but in the end he was pronounced parasite free and Frasier had released him to do the rest of his recovering at home.

Jack had never seen her release Daniel in such bad shape. Sure, he was better than he had been. He could finally eat, though his list of acceptable foods was incredibly limited. The stomach pains were gone, the fever was gone. He had a few more days of drinking doses of the cleansing stuff (that really did taste as bad as Jack had imagined) before his treatment was done, but he was weak and easily exhausted, still napping two or three times a day. Frasier usually waited until he was close to top form before sending him off base and Jack suspected the difference this time was that when Daniel left he would go with him. She'd apparently had more than her fill of his attitude and he couldn't really blame her, not that he was exactly sorry about it. As far as he was concerned he'd been well within his rights to be a complete pain in the ass.

Daniel had another problem besides being weak and wrung out. He was incredibly quiet. Sure, he still felt a little off, but Jack knew this kind of quiet; the pensive, silent thing he did from time to time. Something was bothering him and he didn't need a list of options to guess what it was. There was a whole lot about the mess on 888 that didn't sit right and after their brief conversation about Rothman he had a pretty good idea where Daniel's head was on the subject. Jack didn't have any answers about why things had played out the way they did. Of all the people wandering around the camp that day why had Chaka decided to take Daniel? Why had Rothman been taken as a host and why hadn't anyone seen it until he'd picked up a weapon and started firing? Out of the six people that had been on the dig, why had Daniel been the only one to survive? There were just some questions you couldn't answer. Things simply happened the way they happened. Still, Jack knew that didn't make it sit any better with the sole survivor of the team; a man who was curled up on his side on the couch with his arms wrapped around himself.

"You need anything?" Jack asked as he settled on the coffee table in front of him.

Daniel shook his head. He didn't meet Jack's gaze, but it didn't matter. He could see the emotions swirling in them just the same. Jack gently cupped his stubble covered face, his thumb stroking along his skin.

"Hey."

Daniel gave him a wary glance.

"This wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

Daniel nodded, his brow furrowed.

"Missions just go wrong sometimes. You know that."

Another nod.

"And you are most definitely not to blame for what happened to Rothman."

"Don't." Daniel visibly cringed from the topic. "Please. Just…don't."

"If you want to blame somebody, blame me. I'm the one that let him join the rescue mission."

Daniel reached out and gently gripped Jack's forearm, a decidedly troubled expression on his face, tears shimmering in his eyes.

"Ok." Jack agreed to drop the topic before leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

He'd said his peace and Daniel was coherent enough to have gotten the message. What he did with it was entirely up to him. Daniel had been the one to bring Rothman into the program. 888 had been his first off world mission and he'd gone at Daniel's invitation. It was easy to see why he would blame himself even if he didn't deserve it.

Jack tucked a blanket around him, kissed him one more time, and let him drift to sleep. They'd get through it one step at a time just like they did every other catastrophe. Maybe time would add a little perspective. Maybe it wouldn't. He'd have to wait and see. They all knew there were some things you never really got past, you just put them aside the best you could and moved on. Daniel knew that better than any of them.


End file.
